heromuxfandomcom-20200216-history
2013.09.23 - Labor Day Barbecue at the Xavier Institute
Sunday before Labor Day. For the students that reside at the Institute, the entire afternoon has been slated for a barbecue, the weather carefully adjusted to be as pleasant as possible, and the grounds opened to let everyone enjoy themselves. One table in the gardens conveniently close to the tables of food and beverages has been set aside for the less pleasant reason for this gathering -- the faculty of the Institute are gathering for a meeting. Students who know better are likely steering well clear of the area, flitting through only to snag edibles and flee again. Seated to one side of the large table, Ororo waves one hand over the plate of food she's picking at slowly, gently dissuading a bumblebee from trying to sample the potato salad. "Hi, Ororo... I picked up the fruit salad and some meat," Doug calls out cheerfully as he approaches the gardens. Behind him, a tall purple machine crawling along on legs with an eye on a stalk follows along. That had most assuredly -not- been around when Doug left, and at the unspoken question, Doug shrugs. "Had an incident while I was out. Had to reprogram something that was trying to kill Spider-Man, and uh... she followed me home. So can I keep her?" Jean sits quietly at the table, sunglasses on in deference to the splendidly sunny day. She has a small plate of food and a glass of ice tea beside her. Her mien is subdued, a trifle on the serious side, but pleasant enough. 'Low-key' is perhaps the best description -- not that she's often all that high-key. Leaning back in her chair, she doesn't do much more than pick at her food as she watches the rest of the goings on and keeps an ear on the staff meeting. Scott Summers opens the sliding glass door and makes his way to the picnic table. Unlike many of the members of the school, he has not been at the barbecue at all and makes no move or effort to eat any of the food. Instead, he takes a place at the far end of the table from Ororo and Jean. He gives a solemn nod and waits quietly for the others to arrive. A compact blue car pulls through the gates of the grounds and grinds it way down the circular driveway. In it are two passengers, an older, dark-haired woman, and a younger girl looking down at her lap with her hair falling over her face. Neither of them are talking as the car pulls to a stop and Ruth Aldine's aunt looks at her and says something quietly. The girl in the blindfold doesn't respond as she simply opens the door and exits the vehicle. She doesn't wave as the car pulls away, back down the driveway slightly faster than it came up it. Oh look, food. And a good thing, too, since she missed breakfast! Nothing like replacing the most important meal of the day with loads of things drowned in barbecue sauce. The girl takes the steps casually, and gets ignored by the majority of the students. Though there's at least a few less mistrustful glares than when she first arrived. One even greets her with a simple 'Hey, Ruth.' He gets some kind of mumbled, half-hearted response as Blindfold enters the front doors of the school with her head down and her thumbs hooked into the loops on her jeans. By the time she exits the building again, this time on the terrace leading to the garden, and thus the food, her pale pink pullover t-shirt is a little ruffled and she has the general air of doom and gloom around her. But that's not exactly unusual for the girl that seems to continually see and bring up future calamities. With a little mopey moseying, she mumbles some more unintelligible greetings to the people in her way and picks up a plate. Right before her stomach lets out a prodigious gurgle of protest at it's lack of feeding. Like she had some kind of Sarlacc in her tummy. Sitting in his office, Charles finishes a small amount of paperwork. It probably could've waited until tomorrow, but the Professor isn't one to procrastinate. His work completed, he find his schedule is clear for the day. He looks out of his window and smiles. It's a beautiful day, and his students and staff are once again gathering together for the beginning of the fall term. It's always a time that Charles feels most optimistic for. You never know what's going to happen, who you might meed, or what challenges lie ahead. Even he, with all his advanced abilities, doesn't know. What he does know, is that he'd like to spend some time outdoors with his family. A few moments, the Professor arrives in the garden. Pushing the wheels of his chair, dressed as impeccably as any other day (He rarely, if ever, goes casual) he smiles as he rounds the corner into the gathering place. "Good afternoon, everybody. I trust you're enjoying yourselves?" Storm looks up as Doug says hello, and blinks a few times rapidly at the presence of the eyestalk-machine-thing. For anyone that knows her well enough, that is an expression of complete surprise. "I think we might need to discuss that, Mr. Ramsey." The meeting hasn't officially started yet, as they're still waiting for one or two other people to settle in, and Storm leans toward Jean to offer quietly, "What is that saying, a shilling for your thoughts?" Then her eyes cut over to Scott when he takes his seat at the table, and she starts to suspect that the shilling will be unnecessary. Ruth's arrival doesn't go unnoticed, but it does go unremarked. Better to not call the girl out when she's just approaching the food. Mental note to self: speak with her at some point this afternoon. When Professor Xavier finally joins them she sits up a bit straighter. "Good afternoon, Professor." Impromptu meeting set to begin. "These friends.... help Spider-Man?" the purple machine asks in a tinny voice. "I'll explain later. For now, uh... just be a good girl and listen quietly, Lassie." Petting the eyestalk, Doug places the bag on the table, ready for the food in a bit, coming up near Blindfold in the process. "Ruth, we've got a meeting, lemme help you with that." Trying to get the food set up so that they can get to meet, Doug quickly hurries up, and settles in, pausing to greet the others. "Professor, Jean, Scott." The questions about the rumors, for the moment, goes unasked, although there was a slight quizzical look at Scott, before he takes his seat. Jean glances to Storm and smiles. "Penny," she smiles. "In America, it's 'penny' rather than shilling." But, then she shakes her head slightly, though she still smiles. "Ask me again in private." She, too, notes Scott's distance. Unlike anyone else, perhaps, however, she expected it. And that's the only reason she doesn't flinch. That, and she's had time to come to terms with a couple of things within herself and make a necessary decision or two. Consequently, she can leave him his distance and not openly react. She, too, notes Ruth's arrival, and the odd contraption that follows Doug. That's one of the stranger things she's seen lately, to be sure. But, maybe not the strangest. Still... Lassie? But it's the professor's arrival that garners a real smile from her. "Professor. It's good to see you." Very good, in fact. A little bit of tension goes out of her shoulders. Scott gives a nod to Doug before turning his attention back to the Professor. He is, as normal, all business, and looking forward to hearing what the Professor has to say. "Hello Professor." But once Doug's machine starts muttering things, Scott can't help but take a quizzical look. "New friend, Doug?" A bratwurst, a piece of watermelon, some cantaloupe, cool-ranch-style chips, it all goes on the plate. A growing girl's gotta eat, even if Blindfold was probably as tall as she was going to get for the rest of her life. By the time she's done, the plate looks like it also contains all the food she was going to eat for the rest of her life. It's a veritable meat-and-fruit-and-bean mountain, like some kind of phobia right out of someone who fears their food touching each other's nightmare. So it's no small feat when the girl who doesn't have any eyes manages to balance it precariously on her forearm and also start struggling to pour herself some soda. Luckily she gets a little assistance in the form of Doug! Good thing too, or all that deliciousness might have hit the ground, and Ruth was not a fan of the five-second rule. "Yes. Thank you. I know." And with her loot in hand, the professional party-pooper is more than content to leave the grown-ups to their meeting and 'go play' with people her own age. Which really meant go eat in her room or over there under the trees by herself. She really only gets a step in the direction of departing the terrace, though. Then her plate hits the ground. It's as if her hands just go limp, cup falling in seeming dramatic slow motion, at least to her senses, as her hands begin to shake and she looks, or at least faces, upwards into the sky, reaching out as if she's about to touch something as her precognitive abilities spike. It all takes less than a couple of seconds before there's beans and barbecue sauce on her tennis shoes and she's letting out a startled gasp. Charles Xavier smiles, "Jean. Scott. Ororo. Douglas. Ruth." he says, voice particularly pleasant. There is a bit more warmth for the first three names than the last two but that's only because he's had more years with them. There is a certain fondness with which he says Doug and Ruth's name that shows, as well. He wheels his way towards the table, and comes to a stop at it's edge. "I hope I'm not keeping anyone from holiday activities, but I thought I would catch up with the few people that were around today and see where things were for preparations for the upcoming term. I trust they're coming along?" he asks, genuinely interested in the details of the lives of those he feels responsible for -- even if they teach here. "Ruth," the Professor says, noticeably concerned. "Is everything ok?" Storm nods to Doug as he hurries to join their table, 'Lassie' getting a second of evaluating stare before her attention is turned away again. She ahs and returns a faint echo of Jean's smile, accepting the correction graciously before nodding to Charles and smiling a bit to him as well. She opens her mouth to start the first topic of this meeting but doesn't get so much as a syllable out before the SPLAT of Ruth's spilled meal interrupts. She turns to look at the girl as the professor inquires, then stands and moves over to help Ruth escape further embarrassment, even though she personally feels there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Earlier: Storm hurries back to her room to change clothes before the meeting, holding the skirt of her caftan and a towel in both hands to keep them from dripping fruit punch all the way down the hall from the kitchens. Now: "Ruth, come, have a seat. I suspect we have something that will clean your shoes." As much as wasting food normally rankles, she's not about to let the girl see that. Not now. "Well, Professor, I think we've got things starting- Kitty was getting prepared..." Doug begins, before Ruth drops her plate. From her body language and reaction... "Ruth, what is it you're seeing?" Doug asks, standing up and closing the gap towards the Young X-Men member, kneeling to listen. "Precog vision," he adds, by way of explanation to Storm. Jean's head snaps around at Ruth's reaction, the telepath being somewhat sensitive to the psychic states of those around her. She half rises from her chair, intending to go to the girl, but pauses when Doug beats her to it. No sense crowding her. She knows that from experience, too. Her own mental shields, it might be noted, however, are up strongly enough that there's little to no leakage from her. Thus, she doesn't quite quick up on what the girl may be seeing by proxy. The last time Ruth had a vision like this, it was about Scott. It came true. Instead of getting up, helping Ruth, or anything like that, Scott merely shifts his position. His gaze never leaves the young woman and he's eager to see what sort of riddle she'll let out. With a visible shudder, Ruth Aldine shakes the horribly queasy feeling she sometimes felt when her powers activated. It wasn't always easy seeing things that shouldn't have been seen, at least not how and when they were seen, and sometimes tended to leave a bit of vertigo. And now she has to deal with sauce and bean juice soaking into the top of her left sneaker. "Maybe. No. Definitely not." She frowns, wiggling her now-wet toes as Ororo moves to assist her, followed by Doug, who is much less concerned about her shoes. "Tall giants scraping the sky. Yes, seeing with eyes that are not their own. They will hunt the youngest of us. Unfeeling hate. Sorry. Pardon?" Then she levels a finger to poke Doug in the chest. "Because of you." Her toes wiggle through the tops of her sneaks again, she turns her face downward, then she turns her face up with a little almost-scowl. These were the only sneakers she owned, after all! She wasn't one of those rich girls with fifty pairs of footwear. She faces Storm's general direction. "Sorry. Did it work for your skirt?" Charles Xavier is that concerned someone, no surprise. "Ruth," he says comforting, "I'd like to have a word with you later about what you said." though he's glancing around at Ororo, Jean, and Scott with a slight troubled frown on his face. Storm nods to Doug and lets him help Ruth, instead turning her attention to picking up the spilled food so no one else risks stepping on it. Clearly, she's not afraid to get her hands dirty. After just a few moments most everything is picked up and disposed of, and Storm quickly rinses her hands clean with a nearby garden hose placed for that exact purpose. Then she goes to fix another plate for Ruth, putting more sensible portions of the exact same selections the girl had previously. "My..." Looking down at her current skirt that's now probably about as soiled as Blindfold's sneakers though she really couldn't care less, she huffs a faint chuckle when she realizes the reference was about the fruit punch. "Oh, yes. It did." A fresh cup is filled and she moves to set both at their table, faculty meeting be damned. "Come, sit and eat." She'll let someone else be concerned right this moment with the girl's words about giants and hunting and it being Doug's fault. She's got text books and school supplies and stuff like that to keep her brain sufficiently occupied. Wrinkling his nose, Doug frowns. "But... that's..." His voice trails off as he glances back towards Jean. He'd talked about how he might be more useful tracking down the inhibitors, but... Shift had mentioned Master Mold, and Doug was, at the least, going to check into that. "I... maybe I should discuss this with the Professor later. For now, though..." He gives Charles a look, as he tries to urge Blindfold to the meeting. "Just have a seat. I'll... I'll get you the food." And give him time to recover his thoughts. Giants? Hunting young mutants? And it's Doug's fault? Jean straightens where she stands, now, and returns the Professor's concern with a similar look of her own. Her eyes flit to 'Lassie' and her lips press together as this newest crisis lands in their laps. Truthfully, she'd like to speak with Ruth, too. Perhaps even pull that vision out of the girl's memory so she can see it for herself. But... well, the Professor's back. And he takes precedence in such matters. People no longer need to come to her for those sorts of things. And, though she's not sure just how she feels about that, it does occur to her that it's likely better this way, given everything she's been dealing with lately. Much better this way. Not that she's any less concerned. She just holds her peace for now. Scott rests his chin in the l-shape of his hand and takes a long look at Blindfold. His gaze goes from Ororo to Jean, but it is of course obscured by his glasses. With the Professor here, he too stays quiet. The news is very perplexing, not about the giants. He's seen those giants. But what Doug has to do with them remains unclear. "Sorry. Yes. Okay." Ruth mumbles in response to the professor's wish to speak with her later. People often wanted her to be more clear on what she said, but it's not like she held back on purpose! Her inability to communicate clearly as frustrating for her as it was for the people she was often trying to warn. But at least this one didn't come with predictions of death. ...Or at least she didn't mention death directly in it, such as when she warned Domino of her impending demise. Adding in the fact that, even when she TRIES to cooperate, her mind is a garbled mess of not-easily-understood confusion ever since half of her powers were stolen from her and it became like trying to solve one of the Riddler's crime. But without the Batman. And now she had to sit at the grown-up table. Or 'got to', she supposed. Folding her arms around herself, Ruth Aldine bends to the urging of Storm and Doug and takes the proferred seat. "Yes. Pardon. Sorry." But at least she got her food. The senior seats herself, squeezing her palms together between her thighs and 'stares' down at her food for several long, quiet moments, before picking up a fork and starting to poke at a piece of chicken. She can hear the questioning gazes readily enough, so she fills her mouth with a bite so she doesn't try to answer the questions no one's even asked her yet. Charles Xavier doesn't attempt to question, nor does his gaze look questioning. He merely smiles, as if someone merely used the wrong fork when there were many to choose from. He looks to Doug, "So. You were saying?" he asks, as pleasantly as he did before. Storm caught everyone else's unease brought on by Ruth's words, but suspects that the poor girl has to deal with that a LOT. And thus, she's rather glad when the Professor steers the topic back to what Doug had started to say in that effortless way he has. She eats a small bite of the potato salad on her plate and looks toward Doug, though her eyes do land on the spindly-looking automaton for a brief moment. "Uh... I'm sorry," Doug says, trying to remember what he was saying before Blindfold had her vision. "Um, Kitty's back from her trip, and we were getting the curriculum organized. Some of the graduates have already met the new students. Uh... Laura's on... hiatus, for the moment, but... I'm sorry, I haven't heard anything from her yet. I think Cessily may have, but I'm reluctant to press things at the moment." He glances over to Scott. "That's all I have for the moment." Scott exhales as he mentions Laura being on hiatus. Letting your loyalty slide is definitely en vogue these days. "From my perspective, Professor, my syllabi are shared on our local drive. I'm confident some of the new teaching strategies will be seamlessly coordinated." As Ruth settles down, Jean resumes her own seat and lets the intensity of her attention fade from the girl. She remembers when people used to stare at her when she would accidentally respond aloud to an overheard thought. The best thing to do, she knows, is to allow the situation to normalize again. After all, this is the home of the X-Men. Weird crap happens. As the conversation turns to talk of teaching, she pushes her other thoughts away. "The science program outlines should be in your inbox. There's not a great change from last year. A few updates to include current research where appropriate, but I've made it easy for anyone to pick up and run with." You know. Just in case things continue to be crazy and a sub needs to be called in. The blind prophet picks at her food and tries to mind her own business. Which means for once that she's not probing into the minds of others, something she frequently gets chastised for. And which had made her wildly unpopular when she'd first come to the school. And while she doesn't do anything other than face her food, the psychics in the group can definitely pick up on the fact that she's 'looking' around. Intently. Laura's gone, which explained the lack of bad moods on campus and much fewer stab-related visions, when she wasn't around 'Professor' Logan, anyway. But at least the current topics on the table tended to pull her minds away from disasters and focus on more mundane matters, like her own impending graduation and just what she was going to do afterwards. She hadn't even decided if it would be worth her time to go to college! Or just run lottery and sports-gambling scams like several students wanted her to. But she had the vague feeling, or maybe absolute certainty, that the faculty would frown on that kind of ability-profiteering. The Professor nods to Scott and Jean, "Very good. I didn't expect there to be a great difference in curriculum this year, save for the science department's changes to reflect the current information. His expression briefly darkens at the mention of Laura's absence. It's something that's troubling him as well, but he'll do his best to work things out in the meantime to bring peace back to the fold. In the meantime, there's Ruth - "So, Ruth.." he says, mildly, "Have you started to give some thought to what you'll be pursuing post graduation?" It's almost as if the Professor were reading her mind, sneaky bastard. Storm listens to each faculty member as they speak in turn, her own news probably less than encouraging. And, when the professor turns to speak to Ruth, she can't help but think maybe it's something best not related in front of a student. After all, Bobby Drake's departure might only be temporary, but it does leave them short an instructor, and they usually have barely enough of those as it is. So, she instead picks up a slice of apple from her plate to nibble on. It's not like she didn't already all but tell Charles and Jean her news aloud. Nodding quietly, Doug glances towards Scott and Jean, before venturing to ask, "And what about the extracurricular programs? We have a fair number of... teachers who've left to handle other programs. What will we do...?" "We do the best we can with what we've got," Jean smiles to Doug. "Don't worry. One way or another, it'll be business as usual." None of them, after all, are inclined to let the kids suffer on account of adult actions. This place is a sanctuary for these kids. And, damn it, it's going to stay that way. Somehow. Scott readjusts his hand on his chin, uncomfortably. He's been not so opaque about the cowardice with which he feels others have left, and his irritation about the open door policy here at the school. It is, as it is and what it is. "We could each pick up another class. We'd lose one of our preps, but we could keep things going." Ruth turns her face up from her plate at the mention of her name, though her expression doesn't really change. She puts her fork down while her other hand briefly drums her fingers on the table. "No." She admits simply. If nothing else, at least she had her unfailing honesty. "Sorry. My aunt wants me to live with her. Yes. Community college. We discussed it earlier today." "I do not want to. No. Pardon. She is upset." There's a mental *ping* from Ruth as she psychically locates every student in the immediate vicinity, and crosses the mental consent barriers to find out if any of them are paying attention or listening in to the conversation. "Sorry. I can be more clear. I don't think I can have a normal life. I don't want to leave. I don't want to stop training. Yes. To make a difference. Make things better." With that, she picks her fork back up. Charles Xavier thinks about this for just a couple of moments and takes a long breath. Giving a measured, long exhalation of breath. "Well, there's nothing that says you have to." he tells the student "I do have several agreements with universities that allow students to take classes online if their needs call for it, and I see no reason why I couldn't make a case for you there. Of course, we'll have to find something for you to do in addition here at the school, but I don't see that being a problem either." Storm can't help but offer a small smile to Jean as Doug unwittingly (?) voices her own concern about staffing and is given the best possible answer. Even Scott's offering of having teachers pick up classes would be acceptable. Difficult, but then, what things worth doing are /not/ difficult in some way or other? "I will compile the class schedules, Scott, and see how to best rearrange the teaching assignments." She looks back at Charles to make sure that that will be acceptable. That settled, and Ruth engaged in conversation with the professor, Jean gives a small smile and reaches for her fork to pick at her food a little more. She regards Scott for a moment over the glass of ice tea near her hand, unconsciously watching. Until, of course, it becomes conscious, and her gaze slides away to a game of mutant ball beginning on the basketball court. She smiles a little wider at that and silently reaches out with her telekinesis to 'tap' the ball so that it careens off entirely in a different direction to where the whole playing field expected it to go. When Jean looks over at him, she can clearly tell he's looking at her. "Thank you, Ororo. I really appreciate it. Over the years we've all taught a whole host of different subjects so I imagine it'll be possible to get everyone slotted in alright. "Thank you. I would like that." Ruth admits a bit sheepishly. "My aunt is very understanding. Other people are not. Sorry." Some more forkfuls see the teenager's plate more or less empty of the food and her stomach no longer in any great danger of devouring itself in its own anguish. The fight with her aunt earlier had been bad enough, before yet another vision of fire and danger. The destinies of this particular group of people seemed fraught with nothing but danger, peril, and loss. They never seemed to have any HAPPY futures that were shown to her. And here she was training to try to be one of them. A strange choice, maybe, but the alternative was living amongst people who thought she was crazy, at best. Though Jean's telekinetic tampering pulls her out of those thoughts, and into pondering just how many ball games around here got third-party interference. "Excuse me, Professor. Everyone. Yes. Sorry. I have homework I should be doing." After excusing herself, the dark-haired teenager pushes her chair back, gets up, and backs away from the table. "Pardon? Yes. I will be in your office later." Foreseen, or just confirmation that she'll talk to Xavier later as he'd asked? That minor mystery may never be known as she withdraws from the terrace and into the interior of the school. Charles Xavier smiles and nods to Ruth as she departs from the table and heads off. He glances over at Jean, then back over at the ball game. He smirks a little, but doesn't say anything about it. The twinkle in his eye suggests that he's done similar things in his time. He glances back towards Scott, Ororo, and Doug. "I'm still getting settled," he says sitting back in his chair "Does anyone have an update on Genosha?" "I... can only relate what is in the news currently. My apologies, Professor." Thing is, Ororo is genuinely sorry. But at the same time, she knows she's been needed here and for that reason won't be gallivanting off to Genosha. As Ruth takes her leave, and the professor changes his topic to more serious things, Jean inhales a steadying breath and pulls her attention away from the game, back to the matter at hand. "We have a team in place there to try to keep the elections on the up-and-up," she tells him, now -- no longer looking at Scott at all. "Shift and Rachel have taken command of it. Magneto and his people will recognize about half the team, I think. Shift has the latest intel and Rachel has the chops to keep the Brotherhood's psis from picking anyone's brain without their consent. The last I heard, they're safe and they're trying to get close enough to the campaigns to make the difference." Scott leans back on the bench, licks his lips, then purses them uncomfortably. This isn't the time or place, so he stays quiet. Jean's status report will certainly suffice. Charles Xavier listens on the intel team that they have in place. He nods slowly, still thinking, "Very good. Give me information as soon as it breaks or every half hour with updates, please." he says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Just so we aren't putting anyone in more danger than they already are, let's keep two more teams in rotation that are ready to go, and an extraction technique ready when it's time to pull those people out." he pauses for a moment, "I trust there's enough news to go around that this has not been the story?" Category:Log